Gilded Sleep
by Vashagud
Summary: If he'd known it would take her so long to kill herself, he would've eaten first. Cloud/Yuffie, hints of Cloud/Tifa. M for Sex and Language.


Cloud never got any mail. Even the bills, of which he paid half, came in Tifa's name. All of the junk mail came in Tifa's name. For all anyone knew, he didn't live at 430 Keystone Drive somewhere in what used to be Midgar. But one morning, there was something in the mailbox that wasn't for Tifa. It was a small, wrinkled, white envelope that had his name on the back in black bubbly letters. Cloud Strife, it said, and he stood there out in front of the bar, turning it over in his hands like he'd never seen a letter before.

Finally though, ignoring the intrigue that had risen in him for such a simple thing, he opened it. Pulling out the folded white paper he read the script, glancing once at one of the hearts over the I's, as the sun beat down on his head.

_Hey Cloud, I know I never write or anything, but I need your help and the only other person I could ask is probably brooding in a corner somewhere looking hot. Anyway, I'm just writing to tell you that I'm committing suicide, and it'd be really cool if you could help me out with it. Call me, because this writing letters thing sucks, I don't even understand why you have a phone if you never even answer it. I'm just gonna count this as my suicide note, so don't throw it away, okay?_

-Yuffie

He stood there still, the paper steady in his hands. He wondered if it was just one of those strange jokes engendered by the stardom that still was apparently his even after the public had had a year of rest to see what a hero he wasn't. He was a delivery boy. Not a soldier, not a mercenary for hire, and at the end of the night he was back in that house telling Denzel to eat his broccoli even though he didn't like it himself, and trying to think of suitable bedtime stories for Marlene, who couldn't stand ones that came in books. And Tifa, well she was Tifa. Strong, still beautiful, still smiling. Tifa. Sometimes though, even as they sat elbow to elbow at the table he'd forget she was even there.

"Cloud?" Startled, he turned his head to see her in back of him, dark hair glossy in the sun.

"Is everything okay?" Sighing, he folded the letter back up, looked to her bare feet sitting white against the sidewalk, toenails painted red. He didn't know when she'd started painting her nails, or even when she started creeping around like she was on some kind of constant stealth mission. He would turn around from his bike, from the mirror in mid-shave, from the cereal cabinet, from one side of his bed to another and there she'd be. Always asking him if everything was okay, even if she didn't actually say it.

He would give up his bike and even his wielding arm for her, but he knew that'd probably just leave him crippled and bikeless and no less frustrated as to why yes didn't mean yes anymore, or why she looked at him like she expected him to have the one meltdown he hadn't already had or leave one day and never come back. He thought his face looked happier in the mirror, and he thought he sounded the most sincere he had in years when he said he wasn't going to leave them(again). He knew it was through the bundle of all his problems that she needed the constant reassurance but her doubts were starting to get to him.

And he started to wonder if he was just missing something only she was seeing, because it certainly wouldn't be the first time.

"Just getting the mail." he said, turning back to look ahead of him.

"You get anything?" He considered telling her, even though they often joked about how he never got any mail. She thought it was funny because he was a delivery boy, and because he was the savior of the world. She joked once that if not for the cell phone he rarely answered, Cloud Strife wouldn't exist.

"No, nothing." He lied, still trying to figure out if he should even take the letter seriously.

"One day, Cloud." She said.

"Maybe the next time we save the world." He said wryly, thinking of their old joke. She leaned her chin on his shoulder, and the flinch that resulted was so small he hoped she didn't notice. Old habits, he guessed. "I don't want to wait for that. You know what, I'm going to write you a letter. But I'm not going to tell you when." She said and he smiled.

"Okay." He felt her step back.

"I am. But first, maybe I should start on dinner. Broccoli's fine right?"

"Yeah, perfect." When he headed to the garage, which was like his second home, he dropped the letter behind his toolbox. He was sure it was in fact written by Yuffie, but it was so ridiculous and so well…typical of the impetuous future queen of Wutai, he was comfortable with doing nothing at all. Knowing her, she was probably throwing a tantrum over something and he really didn't care to know what that something was.

He didn't want to be involved, especially since he had a whole household on his hands, a business dying the slow death that any fledgling would in the crumbled ruins of Edge, and he was trying really hard to fix up his bike. He wasn't going to get involved, even though that was the only letter he'd gotten since the one he got from his father when he was eight saying he'd be gone for a while, and 'could he be the man of the house' and really, he was just as much the man of the house then as he was now. He didn't feel like as much of a kid as he did then, or even a few years ago, but he'd still look around sometimes and see crayons and paper all over the place, his sword lying idle beside his bed and feel like he had no idea what he was doing.

Or even what he was doing in the little makeshift family they seemed to have formed completely by accident. He didn't want to get involved, but that didn't stop him from picking up the phone after three days had passed, because as tiring as she could be, Yuffie was part of the 'extended' family. After two failed phone calls and five rings, he actually started to get a bit worried despite himself when—

"Hey! I was beginning to think you weren't going to call." He frowned into the phone, pulling his goggles onto the top of his head. "Are you alright?" he asked, even though she sounded like she really couldn't be better.

"Yeah, fine. I was just in the shower. Seriously though Cloud, I might have already done it, waiting for you to call." He sighed.

"What is this about? What was that letter about?" he asked.

"I…gawd this is weird talking about over the phone…can you come over or something?"

"I don't have time for this Yuffie."

"Then why did you call, huh?"

"You know why I called."

"To say you don't have time for a dying friend? Real nice Cloud." He blinked.

"You're not dying Yuffie."

"I'm dying on the inside, isn't that enough?"

"If this is some kind of cry for help-"

"Well duh, I need you to help me do this right."

"What?"

"It's all in the letter, I thought you read it…hey, when you come by, can you bring it?"

"That's not going to happen."

"You on a delivery?"

"No."

"Then why not?"

"You're being serious."

"Well, yeah…"

"I'm not helping you kill yourself."

"But I thought-" she started and Cloud was temporarily at a loss for words.

"You thought I would want to help kill off more of my friends." There was an uncomfortable silence, and Cloud was shocked that had even come out of his mouth at all.

"…Yes?"

"I'm hanging up, but you should probably talk to someone."

"I'm talking to you."

"I'm the wrong person. Try Tifa I'm sure she'll-"

"Oh no, she'll just try to talk me out of it, ask me if everything's okay…" he paused. "It's such a bummer, you know?" A few silent beats passed before he raised his eyes to look farther down the road, jaw set.

"You should talk to her anyway. She can help you." The undertone was _I can't_, and it rang clearer than anything said out loud.

"I don't want to be helped, well I do but…geez, don't you know what it's like to want to just

escape?"

"Take a vacation." He said, now not sure how he should be reacting, but still very much unsympathetic.

"You know that's not what I meant! You're gonna tell me that that one time you were completely off your rocker, all we needed to do was take you to go tan in Costa Del Sol?" Cloud froze, perfectly stunned at her tactlessness. Even Cid still tip-toed around the crazier(for lack of a better word) part of their journey, where he may or may not have been himself. It was almost a pleasant change of pace.

"Somehow, I think you're problems are a bit different than mine were." He said with a fleeting smile.

"Gawd, are we having an emo contest now?" Cloud paused again, not even sure what that meant. "Because you'd win that," She started again, "Which is kind of why I thought you might…I don't know…understand?"

"Well I don't... I don't." He repeated, feeling completely at a loss for the right words to say. If this thing was real, he couldn't imagine how he'd be able to help her. If not, he had a few stern phrases built up from trying to be somewhat parental, but he didn't see that working either. "I'm sorry, but-"

"Fine. But I'm doing it, with or without you. So don't think that you're saving my life or anything."

"You're the only one who can save your life." He said, almost involuntarily. And he was pretty satisfied with the advice until he heard the gagging sound on the other end.

"Is that like, a bumper sticker on your bike or something?"

"It's…advice I was given once."

"From _who_?" He frowned, wondered how 'off his rocker' he might sound if he revealed that he sometimes took advice from people who weren't exactly...alive. But Shiva it was like they really were there beside him sometimes.

"It doesn't matter. I have to go." he said.

"…Fine." He could nearly hear her sulkiness through the line, and she seemed so much like herself he felt he could hang up in mostly good conscience. So that's what he did. Tucking his phone away in his pocket, he pulled his goggles back over his eyes and headed home.

Everytime he stopped in front of his house and his feet touched the drive, he felt like he was stepping into a dream. There was a window at the front of the house, a yellow square of light that he often stood by for ages before he actually went inside. Marlene, Denzel and Tifa would usually already be seated at the table, and it was so strange how complete that looked, strange how little of a surprise that was.

Though sometimes he wondered what it would be like to look in on himself sitting at the table with all of them. Would the picture really be any better?

"You're home." Tifa's voice startled him out of his thoughts, and he turned around to where she was leaning against the house, a dish of ice cream in hand.

"Yeah." he said, trying to ignore how 'you're home' sounded so much like 'you're home?' He stood on the walk near his bike."I missed dinner." he sighed, running a hand through his hair. She looked up at him then, smiling.

"I saved you dessert." She said and he started moving towards her.

"I'm sorry Tifa. I thought I-"

"It's okay." she said, her spoon clicking against the dish. "It's fine." she said, as he came to stand in front of her. "I know you would've made it if you could." He looked at the side of the house, it wasn't true. He'd just been out riding, and he'd made that phone call and lost track of time. He'd forgotten. He'd forgotten, not for the first time and he was sure she knew it.

"I'll wash the dishes." he offered, knowing that didn't really mitigate anything.

"Denzel washed them." He stopped and looked at her white face in the dark, her eyes like black mirrors. "He says that," she laughed, "that now you really owe him that sword trick. He's been practicing a lot, I can hardly get him to stop and do his homework."

"I'll talk to him." Tifa pushed her spoon around in the soupy ice cream.

"He really looks up to you." Cloud's eyebrow's shot up.

"Well, I guess I could talk to him about that too." He said dryly. Tifa only stared past him, eyebrows furrowed.

"It's not so hard to believe is it? You're a hero, and...you're a good man." She said and something about it made him almost reach out to touch her face. But it had been a long time since he'd touched her at all, since he'd felt her weight settle into his old mattress, followed by kisses and fingers or anything that made them more than...whatever they were. So he kept his hand right by his side.

"Tifa? Is everything alright?" he asked, watching her eyes avoid his face. That was different. She laughed.

"I think....I'm usually the one to ask that question." She finally met his eyes. "Everything's fine Cloud, everything's...great, I couldn't ask for more." she smiled and swallowed. "Can you get some milk?" He blinked.

"Now?"

"Yes." She nodded. "Now."

"Tif-"

"You should go now, before the stores close." He looked at her.

"Okay."

And if there was such a thing as kismet, he knew it well, but mostly hoped it would leave him alone. But at nine pm, inside of the only decent food market in Edge which was located not too far from the skeleton of an old brothel, he saw a familiar face.

She was standing in the dairy aisle, with a cart full of what looked like cleaning supplies and junk food. Currently she was holding up a can of whipped cream, and inspecting the back so closely, she didn't greet him until he had fully advanced on her, basket in hand.

Even then, she didn't look up from the can.

"Hey, what do you think glycerol mono..ster..er… whatever, is?" she asked and he glanced down the aisle to see if he could spot some milk.

"I don't know, Yuffie."

"Do you think it could kill me?" She asked, and he snapped back to look at her, at the cleaning supplies in her cart.

"Probably not as well as those." He said regarding the cleaning supplies, and she pulled a goofy look of contemplation. Then she nodded

"Yeah, that's what I thought too." But she threw it in the cart anyway, and starting rolling away towards the cheese wheels and various coffee creams. He followed, not because he wanted to but because something---that something that always got him into trouble, that something that once presented, pulled him in the most dangerous directions, that seemed liked heroism, seemed like nobility, but really wasn't—that something pushed him down the aisle towards her.

"You're serious about what you said." He asked, but more said because he already knew the answer.

"Duh." She said, picking up a yogurt and then putting it back down.

"Why…" she scratched his head, duly uncomfortable. "Is there a reason you want to kill yourself?" The question was strange, moreso because he was the one _asking_ it, and part of him still felt as if this was still Yuffie putting on some kind of show where he was appointed reluctant audience member, and the _only_ audience member at that.

The skepticism he felt didn't abate even when she picked up the same yogurt and put it down again, seeming for an instant a pathetic ghost of her usual manic self. The possibility that it was real made him plainly uncomfortable because he knew he'd never know what to say to her. He wasn't good at people and he knew that.

How could she not know that, how did _everyone_ not know that?

His skepticism helped him get around that with ease and he sighed again, trying to ignore any current in the air between them that told him she had trusted something private and sad with him, and for some reason wanted him to be involved.

Thing was, he didn't want to be involved. He really didn't.

"You should talk to Tifa." Yuffie just laughed, and picked up another flavor of yogurt. His eyes followed.

"Uh, no."

"You should, death…is not your only option." He said, feeling words come more clumsily than he would've liked.

"Yeah, there's also living. And if you don't already know, which I know you do…that option _sucks_." He hesitated then, and it was so transparent, but he hesitated because damnit, she had some kind of point.

"Yuffie." He started, not knowing what he planned to sat to refute it, but knowing he had to say something. "You're only, what…fifteen?" he said and she narrowed her eyes.

"Nineteen." He blinked, wondered when all those years had passed. It seemed just yesterday he'd been chasing a skinny thief down in the some Wutain forest.

"Well…" he started, remembering that this was why he liked silence so much. It was simpler, it didn't create ludicrous situations like this, it was comfortable. As long as it wasn't exposed for what it actually was. "What do you want me to say to you Yuffie?" he finally said, annoyed.

And then she grinned and looked up from her cart full of dairy and cleaning supplies.

"_Nothing _Strife, I told you that. You know you're kinda dense sometimes?"

"…"

"There is nothing you can say, _or do_, to keep me from doing this. I'm the Ninja Yuffie," she pumped her fist, "I am the single White rose of Wutai, and I'll die if I want to." She looked somewhat ridiculous making such a declaration as they stood in the dairy aisle, and he was nearly ready to leave her be again, and then she said something that made him stay. Made his heart clench in his chest, his hand clench the grocery basket.

"I know what this looks like Chocobo Head," she said almost fondly, "You probably think I'm just this spoiled kid who doesn't know anything and s'just looking for attention or something and yeah, it's totally cool you actually responded to my letter, I mean, who knew you were such a softy?" He frowned, and she grinned again as the fluorescent light filled her eyes. "But I really wanted you to know because you've been through so much shit, like _so_ much shit, I can't even believe you're still standing kinda shit--"

"Yuffie."

"Yeah, and even after all that, even though every day for you was like the worst day anyone had on earth ever-" Seeing his look she travelled faster to her point. "You made it through, and that's great, but don't you ever feel that now is maybe the worst part?" she said, and he gripped his basket. "I was always gonna be Queen, but for a while I just looked around and that place was so wrecked, I knew it be a while before I could do anything that mattered. Even though I was an _awesome kid_, I wasn't even sure I could, you know? And then Sephiroth…I don't know started talking to his mother or something right…? And then we all saved the world, and it seemed like…like…what we were all supposed to do."

Cloud pictured her running through the forest, Tifa's hair whipping around in the wind when that Zolom picked her up by its jaws in that swamp, Aerith's arms going limp by her sides.

"It's like we were all supposed to be there, at that time, and I know how stupid it sounds but now it's just like…whatever. I mean, don't you ever look around now and wonder what the hell your doing and feel like it's totally pointless, like it wouldn't make a difference if you were there anyway because you've already done all you really need to, which is a whole hell of a lot more than you ever thought and all the fights left are only the really dumb ones where you pretty much go nowhere, even if you try to convince yourself that you are and that everything's_ okay_ and hell no it's not—"

"Stop." He said and she actually did stop, chest heaving, eyes begging him to say yes, yes that's absolutely _it_, but he just told her to stop. He didn't want hear anymore. Freshly ripped from the momentum of spilling her guts on the floor before him, she watched him and he did not look into her eyes.

He did not see her eyes, He did not see her cheeks that were full of rushing blood, like his chest and his heart which he definitely did not hear beating deep in his ears. In the moment of silence she allowed him, he regretted having let himself be pulled into whatever it was she was doing, he resented the familiar feeling of confusion at hearing _those words_ come out of_ her_ mouth of all places—this skinny little kid, same girl who'd pantsed Reeve, complained about virgin drinks— the same words that had been stuck in his own head without names to go by, and she had…

He resented the sense they made. He'd been brought to understand the real state of things too many times in his life to enjoy it anymore. Or ever really. He looked her in her dark brown eyes.

"You don't understand what you're talking about." He said. "You think you want to be in that place again, You're… _complaining_ because things are good and not exciting…. None of that was _exciting_, Yuffie, not risking our lives, not burying our friends. I don't need to know if we were made for it or not, because it's over. That's good." He stopped. "That's what's good. Even if it's the only good thing. You're right, you don't know anything about it. You can't run, that's one of your options but you will regret it, you'll regret it even when you grow up and still want to."

"Did you? Did you regret it?" she said, eyes hard as flints. He didn't answer, only stared into her eyes. She continued. "And when you came back, did it make everything okay, was it a _good thing_?"

"Good enough." He said, deciding that the conversation was long past its expiration date, and when he walked passed her, he moved as quickly as he could towards the front, quickly towards the doors and the parking lot beyond them, where his bike sat, ready for him when he kicked it into gear and sought out the road.

He forgot the milk.

He spent the hours after their conversation on the open road, where he could think the best. Considering that, it was probably not the best place to be. He passed the dark valleys and hills he'd once been accosted in by the three silver haired brothers, he stood where a sword of a friend had stood, blade sunken into the ground.

There was something in him that hoped for a friendly apparition, but none came. Aerith and Zack had left him to his own devices, and he knew, it was rightly so. He wasn't a child looking for easy ways out anymore, he didn't need them like that anymore. But somehow that rang as untruthful as the words he'd spoken to Yuffie, feeling begrudgingly like a hypocrite, resigned to be blind to the apparent emptiness in his life. The realization was so dour it almost made him smile. It felt like old days when he had been selfish and uncaring, consumed almost willingly in his gloom.

That was what he felt when he sat next to Tifa, when he read bedtime stories that had ridiculous ending that Marlene didn't even buy, that was what he felt when he looked in on them when they weren't there.

He felt very keenly, that something was missing.

Out of habit, he traced back every physical way he'd tried to put that piece back in, sparring with open air, making love to Tifa, as she breathed in his ear that it was all alright…but he didn't want that.

At two am, he found himself driving back towards town, killing the engine faster than he could get off the bike and ascending the stairs to the door he knew he was meant to open. When she appeared in the doorway, the light in the hallway shined on her face in a way that made her look older, even though she was grinning like the maniac she actually was.

"You're going to help me?" she said, looking honestly surprised. He had to think about his answer, he didn't intend on letting her die, but he knew that he needed to be there, to do whatever, because she had asked him to. For some reason she had asked him to. And he did understand, but for now he would go through the motions if that was what she needed.

It was what he needed.

"Yeah." He said, pulling her note out of his pocket and stepping into her small living room, which was littered with candy, cleaning supplies, weapons and ropes. He shouldn't have laughed, but he did. And she turned on him and smiled, handed him a picture frame and told him to put the note inside it.

Gaia, and she had _decorations_ up, some of those hanging lanterns he saw once in Wutai and many other times in Wutain restaurants Tifa liked to frequent. Not looking at him even once, she said yeah, she stole them from the takeout place below her apartment and were he and Tifa together anymore, and he didn't answer but she knew anyway.

He remembered how much he had wanted Tifa when he was a boy, as he made paper rings for the ceiling, and for a short moment he wondered if things would've been different if he hadn't left. He wondered if they were fated like Yuffie seemed to think.

When Yuffie started blowing up balloons, he went to her small table and just sat. After she finished, she came to stand beside him.

"Almost there, Strife." She said sounding cheerful yet tired. And he looked at the clock on the wall and looked at her, told her:

"If I knew it took this long to kill yourself, I would've eaten." When she went to her fridge he didn't stop her, but instead looked at her colorful apartment, the streamers, balloons, everything. Ridiculous.

"…and you were so funny, I'm just thankful you didn't tell me I had _so much_ to live for…"

"You're only nineteen, Yuffie." He said and she brandished a fork.

"_Exactly_, don't you remember nineteen, it's like…the worst ever."

"I don't remember." He said, and she stilled.

"Oh, _oh_, right…sorry that's…really awkward." And he shrugged, thinking not for the first time of what he must've missed those five years under experimentation.

"It's fine." He said, watching as she set a piece of cake in front of him. She sat down across from him with her own slice, but not before setting the whole round cake on the table between them.

"Don't tell Tifa I gave you cake for dinner." He looked down on his angel cake, put his fork in it and lifted a forkful to his mouth.

"This is good." He said and she smiled.

"I hope so, it was reeeallly expensive, I don't wanna brag but…" He looked at the large, colorful cake.

"You should've gotten a smaller one." He said, thinking practically about her death.

"No way, it's my birthday so I-" he stopped, fork midway to his mouth.

"What did you just say?" Yuffie looked at him fully.

It's my birthday." She said again, and he put his fork down, looked all around at the decorations. He couldn't even speak. She continued, "The funny things is, even when I _did_ threaten death you totally weren't even going to come." She said, and he still couldn't speak, caught between wanted to strangle her with her own rope, or just head to the door.

"You…this is a _birthday party?" _

"None of you came last year." She said, _as if_ that somehow justified a cruel, cruel joke. He ran a shaking hand through his hair. He still did not fully believe that the whole thing was a hoax, even after that's what he had been thinking most of the time. But just when he'd started to believe she was serious,

"None of what you said…you didn't mean anything you said?" he asked, leaning with bright eyes over her birthday cake. Then, she shook her head.

"No…I meant that." She said, some kind of desperation in her eye that made him even angrier.

"I'm leaving." He said rising from the chair, but not before she rose up and grabbed him.

"Wait! Don't…I didn't…"

"Why'd you choose me, for this…" he couldn't find the words.

"I told you why!" she said, hand attempting to wrap around his forearm. "I told you why, and I knew you'd understand, even though you said that it was good enough, but it _isn't_ and you know it. That's why you came here!"

"You…" he looked on her with both disgust, and understanding and some other thing that was needling its way through his heart. She let him go.

"You were right, I can't run. I always knew that because…well I'm awesome…but Wutai is waiting for me too. A lot kind of depends on me being…alive."

"If you want me to feel sorry for you--"

"No, I just want you to understand, and right now you're the only one I can think of who would even listen to me, because I'm going freakin insane here, like… how we're all just supposed to fit right back in even though everything's changed and…you really can't run, even if you really want to." He could see the thoughts of her own awaiting country in her eye better than he'd seen anything else of her. For the first time, he felt as if she glimpsed her without all of the trouble, lies and disorder always around her. Seeing her naked for those few seconds, strangely did not make him uncomfortable. "And I didn't want to be alone again like a loser on my birthday." She looked away. "…you can feel sorry for me a _little_-"

Part or most of him, still wanted to leave. He knew the exact location of the door about five feet behind him, and it would be easy to walk out, it would be easy for him to dismiss her and go on his way. That was comfortable, something he was good at. But this kid, she was a reaper, had somehow given him names to the weight on his shoulders, the thing he couldn't shake no matter how many times he'd told himself to pay no mind.

She had let him know that something was dead for him, probably dead for good, and as dour a realization as it was, he was almost content to know it. He felt like, his brain was a little more his own. He felt this even as the part of him that wanted to leave started to become less and less, second by second as she watched him, completely eclipsed by something irritating and confusing, that had his hands circling her wrists and pulling her flush with his own body.

And when he kissed her mouth, he did it softly because he needed it that way and because he wasn't totally sure, but she responded in kind, mouth pliant and tasting entirely too much like birthday cake. Muttering something about birthday presents that he simply ignored, she shook in his arms despite all her self-assuredness, and he liked it, tried not to shake himself.

But there were tremors in his hands when he laid her down on her own table, lifted her hair away from her ears and kissed her neck, feeling her fingers thread through his hair, or rather get caught in it. He promised himself that he wouldn't do this to escape inside of her, to aid in feigning an ignorance that so long had been eating at his sanity. He didn't love her, he wasn't even sure he liked her that much either, but there was something real that they shared, that he couldn't deny.

It was good, and he wasn't alone, and he wanted to have more of it, and if she let him have t, he would. And it seemed that maybe she would, as he followed his jacket's path to the floor with his eyes, his shirt's same path and when he went to remove his goggles from his hair, she stopped him. Asked with a half sheepish, half wolfish grin if he could keep them on.

Smiling, that's just what he did, pulling her shirt over her head, thinking in a moment of heat that all he really had to do was get her shorts off, and whatever was underneath. But he stopped himself, decided he wasn't going to go fast, that he wanted to see her naked. Maybe in repayment since she'd technically 'seen' so much of him, maybe just because he wanted to.

Either way, it was a bit of a serious thing when he finally threw her bra to the floor, touched her where she asked him to, kissed her where she breathed for him to. He was burning up, and the moment he finally hooked his fingers in her belt loops and dragged her tiny shorts down what were longer legs than he remembered, he could smell her thick in the air, and it gave him goosebumps, made everything flash bright, before he tore off the last remaining article separating them _slowly_, a near parody the patience he'd been so adamant about. When he kissed her where it made her choke and gasp and pull at his hair, he smiled because it tasted even better than birthday cake.

And when she snatched his belt out and he kicked both pants and shoes off, he looked at her, at the clock which read about 4:38 am, and she wrapped her legs around him and told him that since she was twenty now, he was only a little bit of a pervert, and he pushed inside of her, and she was hot and wet, and _so tight_ he almost lost his mind a second time.

But she was effectively silenced, if only for a few seconds. In the moment of silence he closed his eyes, and continued to move his hips, breathing out through his mouth, bending over her as she twisted, turned and called his name as the table shook beneath them, and she kept on sliding further across it which was irritating but not enough to stop, not even when her head and whole upper body where dangling upside down from the other side, fingers touching the floor, legs still tight around him.

It had been so long, and it was too good, and when she said something in Wutain that sounded like agony but could have been pleasure or both, he pulled he back up until they were chest to chest. Burying his head in the crook of her neck, their hips met hard over and over, and he groaned through his teeth.

"Yuffie, I'm…" she wrapped her legs around him even tighter. "_Fuck,_ Yuffie…I'm…"

"Gods, gods, do it…harder…"

"Yuffie."

"I don't care…do it." And he did, the high so good he couldn't be bothered to care much about it. Then on the last rock of the table the birthday cake crashed to the floor, along with Yuffie's lone glass of milk and he remembered. He remembered exactly what he'd forgotten.

"Shit." He breathed, put his hand against his face and looked from Yuffie, whose legs were still wrapped around his waist, to the floor where his clothes lay.

"Hey, I'm on that birth control stuff, no worries." He looked back at her, realizing he had not even thought of that.

"No," he said, "I have to go." Yuffie rolled her eyes, unwrapped her legs and got off of the table. He didn't really know what to say, so he picked up his clothes and started putting them on. He watched her sit down at the table, and start on another slice of cake.

"Yuffie—" he began sliding the zip of his shirt up, "I…" She waved her hand, kept her eyes down on her plate.

"Don't worry about it, I'm the single white rose of Wutai, remember?"

"Yeah." She leaned her head on her chin, and finally did look up at him, dark eyes reflecting the light.

"I'm the Great Ninja Yuffie." She said softly, putting her fork down. He nodded and she watched him open her door, just on the threshold, he stopped and turned his head back around after a few second of silence.

"Happy Birthday." He said, and it was really a pathetic kind of goodbye, but it would have to do.

Once outside he flew to his bike like he had when he left the supermarket, jumping on like there might be no tomorrow whence he could purchase a half gallon of milk like Tifa had asked of him, _hours_ ago. It was nearly five and he hadn't gone home, hadn't done the simple thing she asked of him, because he forgot. Like he always did.

Cursing all the way there, he hoped she hadn't waited up. Despite and because of whatever he might've realized in one evening, he didn't plan on running. He couldn't. Whatever missing piece had been plaguing him was an important one, but he knew it was something he'd never be able to recover. He knew that it wasn't enough to deviate from the empty path before him, empty no matter where he chose to be.

And he chose to be on that path with Tifa, Marlene and Denzel. Perhaps Yuffie had chosen that to be on that path with her country.

He picked up the milk and drove straight home then, parking in front of the drive. When he opened the door it felt as it always had. Quietly, he put the milk in the fridge, ascended the stairs to see if Tifa was still awake.

Her door was wide open.

And her room was empty. So was his room, and so was the children's room. For a while a walked around the apparently empty house, glancing out of the windows but not really expecting anything, picking up toys from the floor he'd put away too many times to count. He stopped in his garage, stood in the doorway for a spell so long he started to fall asleep against the doorframe.

He imagined himself again standing in Tifa's empty bedroom, looking down into her empty drawers.

He knew what had happened, and yet he didn't quite believe it, he didn't quite feel it. He slept against the wall of the garage that night, and in the morning he again walked slowly around the house. Nothing had changed. No one had come back.

And so he made himself some breakfast, sat and at it alone at the table. He tried to keep his elbows off the table since Tifa hated that, and he tried not to see the little faces of the children that weren't his but were. He succeeded alarmingly well, but didn't take too much notice.

He went to get the mail. He had a letter.

_Cloud, I hope that you are safe and that you get this. I hope that you understand, but I can't do this anymore. I can't feel for the both of us anymore. I thought I was stronger, but you make me weak. You have for so many years, and I always felt best when I was weak for you. But it isn't a good thing anymore, even the kids see it, and I wish I was stronger. I think I always asked you if everything was okay, because things weren't okay. I wasn't. This just needs to happen. This kids miss you already though, and it you want to, you should visit. I'd like that too. _

_Best, Tifa._

Holding the letter in his hands, he looked back to the house. This was a terrible thing, he knew, but strangely he wasn't surprised. The only thing he could think of was that he was sorry for what Tifa had to go through, but he was resigned to the mistakes he was constantly making, had been for a long time. He didn't anything more than glimmers of something important that he had finally lost.

He realized then that his missing piece was this final happening, when the farce finally crumbled. He had been expecting for so long, seeing it as he looked in on Marlene, Denzel and Tifa looking like a complete family all their own. He'd seen it, in Tifa's questions, and he knew she'd seen it too. Standing there on smooth black drive of 430 Keystone Drive, he felt nothing in particular, just the wind and the air.

There was nothing more to lose, and for the first time in forever, he was at peace.

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Author's Note: So I really don't know what to say here, because I will end up saying everything. Basically, I really wanted to do something different. I wanted to talk a lot about life, death and existence maybe make it contemporary and poke a little fun at such somber topics. Don't know if I succeeded, especially since the ending isn't very funny at all, but I was so _driven_ to write this. I gave up on this more times than I can count, and then in the past few days I've just been writing like mad, like the only one up in my dorm at 5 am kind of mad, but I love writing for this fandom so it was all awesome. Comments and Criticism are so welcome, even if you hated it and just want to tell me why. XD


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